Day 20

This morning I talked a bit with a gentleman as I was coming out of the bathroom. As we were winding up our conversation, he said "I'm actually the guy you're supposed to pay, but considering your trip, you can go on without paying." That was extremely nice of him, and I told him so.

From the campground it was west about five miles (so maybe it's a good thing I didn't end up on the east/north side of the river last night), and then north another five or so to the Shiloh National Military Park, where the bloody battle of Shiloh was fought on April 6th and 7th, 1862. The visitor's center is at the north end of the park, so I came in through the southern back roads, which are well-guarded by several battalions of dogs.

Entering the boundaries of the park, however, is like entering a different world. I don't know if it was the early-morning sun glowing orange through the rising haze, or the low split-rail fences with two-wheeled cannons silently watching the fields, or the leaves of the majestic old oak trees whispering in the light breeze; perhaps it was simply the knowledge that thousands of men had fought and died on those lands. Whether it was one of those things, or all of those things together, it was impossible to not feel the weight of the place. The song playing in my head all throughout my visit was the introspective and somber "Ashokan Farewell", the memorable main theme from Ken Burns's "The Civil War". Only after I reached the National Cemetary and saw the large American flag flying at half-mast did I realize that coincidence brought me to this field of death and destruction on the 11th of September. As I read the words of Lincoln's Gettysburg Address posted at the entrance to the Cemetary, I knew this was a time and place I would not soon forget.

On top of all that, as I traversed the battlefield from the Confederate camps to the south, up across Grant's "Last Line" in the north, I came to the realization that I was crossing back into the North myself. Which meant that my trip was now much closer to the end than to the beginning. Well, nothing to do about it except ride onward, so onward I rode. I got on TN 22 and took that northward through some pleasant Tennessee countryside. Took a right an TN 100, and then a left at US 641 where I arrived at Parsons. Curiously, many of the roads I was on today were marked as bike routes. While they were pretty good roads for biking, there was really nothing that distinguished them from the hundreds of miles of similar roads I've been on that weren't marked as bike routes. Perhaps lots of people bike to Shiloh, as the perfect way to visit the park seems to be astride a two-wheeler. Anyway, by the time I got to Parsons I was past-due for lunch, so I got two foot-long subs at Subway. I've been to a whole lot of Subway's across the country now, and have eaten a whole lot of Meatball subs, but this one was easily the best I've ever had. I don't know what it was, but it was just magical. The Ham & Turkey (which I ate half of) was pretty good too.

From Parsons, it was east on US 412, where I once again crossed the (say it with me now) Tennessee River. From there, it was only a short way north to Mousetail Landing State Park, where this time the primitive campground came before the main state park area. And this was really a primitive area. While the sites were well-marked and maintained, there were only portable toilets, and no water. I didn't have my water bottles completely filled up, but I wasn't cooking, and luckily I had just bought a bottle of juice. And the 24 ounces of premium Pabst Blue Ribbon went wonderfully with the rest of my sub, which I ate by the bank of the river. Eventually a ranger came by my site and collected my $6.75.

I'm actually writing this journal entry a day late, because despite arriving at the campsite around 4:30, I didn't really get a chance to write before I went to bed at a very early 8PM.